Special: A Celebration of Aaron
by LostInLost18
Summary: Chapter 8 - "Their desires are one and the same thing." Clementine/Aaron.
1. Falling Star

Special: 

A Celebration of Aaron

#1

_Falling Star_

There's an old lullaby which gently drifts through his mind, like a passing ship, or a cloud, and it keeps him afloat, especially during his as of late dark dreams.

_Catch a falling star and put in your pocket…_

His mom sings it to him, her dark hair spilling onto his cheeks as she clutches him to her chest. His dark eyes look past her, at a blonde woman who sits in the corner of his room singing alongside her, unnoticed by everyone but him.

Her eyes lock on his, a bittersweet smile slowly emerging, a smile which is ever made the sweeter by the very next words she sings.

_Never let it fade away… _

When he sees her, he thinks of beaches – beaches, jungles and a small, lone, knitted boot. Part of him wonders if that life was ever real.

His eyes fall on the blonde woman's again, her expression one of incredible sadness. He reaches out a small, chubby hand for her, for some comfort, but she can give him none.

She's just a memory now.


	2. Life & Death

_#2_

_Life and Death_

He's sitting in his chair, watching the clock - more precisely, _his _clock - tick down. He knows he only has minutes left - he can feel it in his bones.

He's felt it for a while, this sense of winding down. Age, he realizes, is a battle you cannot fight. You can only embrace it.

His guitar lies across his lap, a beautiful instrument he hasn't played in years. He can't even remember why he learned to play it, except out of some desire to connect to someone; a faceless entity in his life, but whose presence is never questioned., never judged, because he somehow understands he's meant to be there.

He's never told his mother about this presence, this mysterious man who lurks inside his every thought, every dream, because he remembers her entire body clenching up when he asked for a guitar for Christmas. He's not stupid - there's a story behind every line of pain etched on her skin, although he's never asked.

His surroundings slowly start to melt away. This is it.

Everything folds back; his world goes dark, rather surprisingly, _(isn't there meant to be a bright light, somewhere, which is supposed to take him where he's meant to be?)_; his eyes close, a sign of surrender.

One eye opens. He feels someone's arms embrace him; he feels their rosy cheek pressed against his.

"It's Aaron," someone sobs.

He registers the sight of his mother, tears running down her cheeks, her expression a mixture of joy and exhaustion, and Kate _(those dark, impenetrable eyes aren't something you can miss) _but it's not until a third face enters the mix that he feels it, that powerful tug you get when someone you've not seen in a long, long time, someone you've loved, even when they've not been part of your life, comes back.

He inadvertently realizes this is the moment he's been waiting for.

And he finally knows where he belongs, where he is supposed to be.

He's home.


	3. Where the Answers Lie

_#3 _

_Where the Answers Lie _

He feels a bit like Indiana Jones, with all this exploration of uncharted territory.

He hacks his way through the thick terrain, searching for something he can't explain, something he can't define, even to himself. All he knows is that what he's searching for isn't here. He would've felt it, if it had been.

Disappointment fills his head and his heart. _(He'd been so sure this was it.)_

He sits down on a nearby rock, wipes his head, and wonders if maybe the reason he hasn't found what he's looking for, is because he's looking for it. Maybe the answer is to stop looking for it.

It makes a logical kind of sense, although he has thrown himself into the search, trying to piece together the missing moments of his life, the ones which feel much more substantial than dreams but are too vague, too unfamiliar, to be clear cut memories. A guitar, a blue knitted boot, a makeshift crib - there's no correlation to them, nothing to explain how they interlink, except the knowledge _(or blind faith) _he has that the people associated with them must've loved him unconditionally.

He's not looking for the people, though. They're all long gone, or far away. One of them lies in his bed back home, her eyes, even after all this time, still haunted by memories she refuses to speak about; the other…well, she's probably halfway across the world by now, only sending the odd postcard as if it's an obligation, rather than a personal choice.

He knows what he's actually looking, what he's spent most of his young life searching for, is _that island._

On blind faith alone, he knows all that he loved - and lost - was there. Now, he just wants to know it was all real, that it all happened for a reason.

Once he finds it, he can lay all the ghosts which haunt him to rest once and for all.


	4. Family Matters

_#4_

_Family Matters_

The three of them walk down the street; it's become a routine for them to walk out together. His mom is to the left of him, smiling down at him and lightly squeezing his hand. Uncle Jack is always to the right, holding his hand a little bit tighter, as if he's afraid he'll lose him.

He's always in the middle; in his eyes, that's the best place to be, in between his two favourite people in the whole wide world.

His mom occasionally looks at Jack, and they share a moment he's not privy too, but, before he can feel too left out, and without warning, they simultaneously swing their arms forward, lifting him up, up and away. For just one moment, he's flying high in the sky, like a bird or a plane, and even when he lands back on the ground, the giddy feeling of being that high _(being that loved)_ doesn't leave.

They march on, all three of them in a line, facing the world together. Even when his legs start to hurt, just from trying to keep up, Jack wordlessly hoists him up on his shoulders and they keep on walking, to some unknown destination _(quite possibly the future) _and he keeps on smiling.

He knows that there's absolutely no place like home.

**A/n: Thank you so much for the reviews! I thought I'd include a Jate-y moment because I know most of the people who are reviewing love Jate. Well, who doesn't? So this one's for you. **


	5. Christmas Blues

_#5_

_Christmas Blues_

It'll be his fifth Christmas this year. _(One he'll actually remember.)_

He celebrates it with both his moms. _(He differentiates between them by calling mommy with the brown hair, Mommy, and mommy with the blonde hair, Mom.) _Mommy makes the dinner, whilst he and Mom finish up with the decorations in the living room.

They go for a blue and silver theme this year. _(Last year, it was gold and green)._They stand back to admire their work.

"Good job, kiddo," Mom congratulates, smiling at him. "It looks fantastic." _(He put the star all the way on the top of the tree.)_

He goes to find Mommy, who isn't in the kitchen. He makes his way up the stairs, _(such a mountain to him) _and hears quiet sobs coming from the bathroom, before remembering something.

Mommy doesn't like Christmas anymore. It always makes her so sad.

He pushes open the door and, without a word, goes over to her and snuggles against her chest, letting her know she'll always have him. _(Hugs always make him feel better when he's sad). _She smiles, presses her lips against his blonde hair, and whispers, 'Love you, Goober."

It's the last Christmas she spends with them.


	6. Baby of Mine

_# 6_

_Baby of Mine_

A baby, despite popular belief, is aware of a lot more than his or her parents believe. A hell of a lot more.

Or at least he is anyway.

He cried when his mother _(the one he'll always remember as being his)_ first held him, first caressed his face and held him to her bosom. _(The mark of true, unconditional love; the beacon of human emotion.) _

He studied the face of the blue eyed man, who always had a smile for the world to see, _(sensing his importance)_, as he balanced him carefully in his arms for the first time, looking _(probably feeling) _awkward; though it's only a matter of moments before they connect.

He let out a lonely cry when he was taken away from his mother _(the first time)_, his cries shattering the air like a knife as his eyes searched for hers, searched for her gentle smile and calm, soothing voice like a lullaby to his ears _(always singing about a falling star)._

Then, there was that moment of devastation which always leaves its mark. A love so deep, so real, suddenly tears itself in two _(runs away with the sea) _and he bawls for that loss, that sense of heartbreak even an adult barely manages to sustain.

It tears his mother in two, as facts go.

The winds changed. Fate changed; and he ended up in the arms of another. A woman with so much love inside _(love locked away from the world for so long) _he can barely breathe with the amount of love she gives. The amount of love he gives back. And she sings about the same falling star and it welds the connection into place, _(between what he has lost, and what he has gained)_.

Yes, a baby, despite popular belief, is aware of a lot more than his or her parents believe. A hell of a lot more. (_And their story will always be unwritten.) _

**A/n: Dedicated to Jimelda and IrishUnicorn for all their reviews and support throughout my various collections and drabbles :D Thank you to anyone else who's reviewed. You rock! :D**


	7. Art Imitates Life

_#7_

_Art Imitates Life_

* * *

His mother watches as he cradles his child for the first time. His eyes widen as he stares with utter fascination at his flesh and blood, at his creation. A surge of hysteria bubbles at the back of his throat _(he almost giggles)_ but he manages to bite it back.

His beautiful son _(unnamed, for now) _has an interesting shape head, he notices. His cheekbones stick out slightly; his head is not quite round but…turnip shaped, almost. And, out of nowhere, something is born on his tongue _(a name, spat out from between the pages of an unknown past)_.

"Heya, Turniphead," he whispers, rocking the infant gently.

He turns to smile at his mother but a spasm of pain crosses her face and she bolts. And a strange image crosses his mind _(less than a memory; so much more than a dream]_. He remembers a pair of steel blue eyes, a smile tinged with matching surprise to what he wears now, and a loving whisper he can never quite catch…no matter how hard he cranes his head to listen.

And a lone tear crawls his way down his cheek, making its own way down _(not unlike Kate, who it seems returns home less and less)_.

He thinks maybe someone else held him like he's holding his son now, the same deep affection rooted in both sets of eyes. He can taste the salt on the wind, hear the long lost lullabies riding the wind, see a flash of blue surrounding a silhouette, the sound of flesh slapping against glass piercing his every thought.

And it's strange how being surrounded by home, family, can bring out this burning desire to run, to find answers, to _belong._

And he thinks maybe he understands his aunt a little better.

* * *

**A/n: Thank you for all the reviews! You all are very kind. This little drabble here you can take to be a sort of prequel to Where the Answers Lie, although it can still stand on its own. :D**


	8. Chasing Butterflies

_# 8_

_Chasing Butterflies_

* * *

Patience is a virtue many possess, yet so few practice. He remembers hearing that somewhere. So much of his life is scattered to the wind, forged again only in dreams and in those rare moments where he slips into a comatose state, his mind halfway between heaven and hell _(an island; it's always an island)_.

"Why are you here?"

The southern twang to her voice is strangely endearing; it seems to settle him during those moments where he can't find himself _(or anyone else, for that matter)_. It hurts to see her now, her expression a mixture of resignation and distrust.

"Can't I call round anymore?"

She folds her arms, her light hair fluttering carelessly in the breeze.

"You stood me up, Littleton."

"Which time?" he asks, his voice broken.

And, just like that, her expression breaks too. She bites her lip, turns her head, and fights back tears. Theirs is a relationship that struggles and burns with time, occasionally reigniting like a dying flame. He disappears for lengthy amounts of time, unable to explain where he's been but she knows. _(You've been trying to find it again, haven't you?)_

He doesn't know why they keep finding their way back to each other. It's not a healthy relationship to sustain, with one always coming and going and one always waiting and hoping _(knowing the answer is never going to change)_.

Cass simply says only time will tell whether or not they'll manage to stay together.

Kate and Sawyer simply share a look and a smile _(they think he doesn't see it)_. And he thinks maybe they know a little something about chasing love which, like catching a butterfly, might seem to be a permanent thing, only for it to fly away the moment your fingers start to slip.

They're both running.

He's running to belong. She's running to find somewhere stable to call home.

Their desires are one and the same thing. And sooner later they'll realize both paths circle back to each other.


End file.
